


In Which is the Breath of Life Under Heaven

by ningdom



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Crossover, Horror, M/M, Post Lianshang, Post RE6, Psychological Horror, Trans Character, Trans Piers Nivans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:52:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6442324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ningdom/pseuds/ningdom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Redfield is woken up in the middle of the night to a phone call from a voice that he still hears in both his dreams and nightmares - one that takes him to a little tourist town in Maine called <em>Silent Hill.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - The Long Way Down

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys are you ready to party hard  
> well don't bother buckling in cause this car is crashing and youre gonna go through the window whether u buckle or not  
> i've got about 5 chapters already written, so expect a steady update pattern! :) i'll be updating once a week!  
> many thanks to @chest_carpet on twitter for being my beta and screaming at me over google docs  
> my dear friend

_ \--- _

 

Chris hadn’t been called into duty for a field mission in months.

 

On paper he was still one of the founders of the BSAA, the ‘Legendary Chris Redfield’ that killed Wesker and stopped dozens of bioterrorism outbreaks - but reality was different. Chris Redfield was burnt out, and everybody knew it.

 

He hadn’t quit the BSAA. He’d never have been able to live with himself if he had, but that didn’t matter much. Not anymore. Chris couldn’t sleep longer than two to three hours at a time without risking night terrors, and when he was awake all he did was drink and smoke. He hadn’t spoken to his sister in four months - when he’d hung up on her for calling him an alcoholic. 

 

After the  _ disaster  _ in Lianshang, Jill had strong-armed him into getting a psych evaluation. If he was honest with himself, Chris knew it hadn’t been exactly hard. When he’d first gotten back from China, Chris had been… dazed. Lost. All he’d needed was Jill grabbing his hand and giving his shoulder a slight nudge and he’d followed her without question. His mind had been hazed with disbelief and a knee-shaking bone deep sense of utter  _ loss.  _ He’d had people close to him die before, but. Piers- Piers had been  _ different.  _ The therapist that he’d talked to had decided within the hour that he was suffering from depression, PTSD, and grief; she’d taken Jill aside and told her that Chris would end up running himself into the grave if he returned to active duty. For his ‘safety’ Jill had talked him into taking a leave of absence to ‘get his head back together.’ 

 

Eventually, as the months passed, Chris woke up. The denial faded away into a dull throb of loneliness, and Chris filled the hole left in its wake the only way he knew how. The only days he didn’t drink were the ones where he was too hungover to crawl his way out of bed. 

 

(When he dreamed, he saw  _ water  _ and  _ lightning _ and Piers smiling through a tiny circular window as he faded into the darkness.)

 

Eight months passed for Chris in the same dreamlike stupor. 

 

Eight months - until one morning at three A.M. when he laid awake with his head spinning, clutching his fists hard enough that his knuckles grew white and keeping his eyes open so that he wouldn’t fall back asleep into the nightmare he’d woken up from - when the call came. 

 

Groaning, Chris sat up and felt around by his night stand until his fingers brushed against his phone. He groggily recognized the soft music as the ringtone he had set for Unknown Callers and made the split second decision to answer it. 

 

“... Hello?” Chris muttered into the receiver. 

 

“...” Loud static burst from the tinny speakers and Chris hissed as he pulled the cheap phone away from his ear. 

 

“What the…” He growled and moved his thumb to press the ‘end call’ button-

 

“...elp! He- ... - lp! Capt - … - lp!” The voice that cut through the static sent a chill down Chris’ spine. It was the same voice he heard over and over in both his dreams and nightmares. 

 

“... I don’t know who you are,” Chris whispered angrily and gripped the phone hard enough that he heard a tiny snapping noise, “But this  _ isn’t funny. _ ” He slowly stood from his bed and stumbled into his compact bathroom. He nearly jumped at the sight of his own pale, sallow face staring back at him in his mirror - his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and his cheekbones hollowed under the flourescent lighting. 

 

“...-ot a jok- … Captian, ple- … don’t know where I am - … me find me - … - Chris!”  _ The voice  _ jumped an octave at the end, as if rising in fear. The static made it almost impossible to work out what they were saying, and Chris fought the urge to punch the bathroom mirror. 

 

“You can’t goddamn  _ trick me-”  _ Chris ground out, but was cut off by a sudden crash in the static. 

 

“- … - not a trick! - … - patch! It’s me - …. - took my patch - … - Captai- .. - elp -” After another loud crash, the call cut off and Chris was left with nothing but hair-rising silence and the feeling of being dunked in ice-cold water. 

 

He’d never told anybody about Piers’ BSAA patch. He’d been worried that they’d want to take it for a ceremony or honors - and Chris was selfish enough that he didn’t want to give it up. He’d kept it tucked away inside his bedside table. Sometimes, on bad nights, he’d take it out and stare at it - smooth the frayed edges and threads down with shaking fingers. It was the only real thing he had  _ left.  _

 

The thought was harsh and sobering. Any traces of drunkenness he’d still felt were chased into the darkness. For the first time in months, Chris felt  _ sharp.  _ The caller knew that he’d kept Piers’ patch. It was either someone who somehow knew more about what had happened underwater in the oil rig than Chris had released and it was  _ imperative  _ that Chris hunt them down as soon as possible - or. Or. 

 

He didn’t want to think about the other possibility. Not yet. 

 

_ \--- _

  
  



	2. Chapter 1 - Where the Sun of the Divine Grace Does Not Reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! :-) disclaimer that i have no idea how bsaa military shenanigans work . or how Secret Agent Man shenanigans work  
> really i dont know how anything works

_ \--- _

 

By noon, Chris had gotten ahold of Leon and had the agent patch him through to Hunnigan. He didn’t mention anything about the actual contents of the call he’d gotten - he was more than aware that anyone with a brain was going to think that he’d been drunk or hallucinating; it wouldn’t be the first time; but Chris hadn’t even had that much to drink the night before. 

 

(He still felt a wash of relief when Hunnigan found the call on his history log. A tiny part of him had been  _ terrified  _ that something in his head had finally cracked for good.)

 

Chris understood why Leon valued her abilities so highly when she managed to trace the unknown call to a little town in Maine within minutes.  

 

By seven A.M. the next morning, he’d taken a train into Brahms. After asking around for a ride to the neighboring town that the unsettling call had originated from, Chris learned a few odd things. Firstly, and most obviously, the majority of the townspeople downright  _ refused _ to go anywhere near it. Getting a ride to town seemed like it was going to be more difficult than he had originally assumed. 

 

Second; he was marginally sure that something was wrong. 

 

Until he’d asked around Brahms, Chris hadn’t been able to find the town’s  _ name _ \- Silent Hill - online or otherwise. At first, he’d just assumed that it was so small that it had been skipped over and forgotten, but. With the way that the people that lived in Brahms skittishly avoided the subject of Silent Hill, it became startlingly clear that the exclusion of the town from all the travel pamphlets and directories that he’d searched through had probably been intentional by  _ someone.  _

 

‘ _ Shit,’  _ Chris thought, his gut sinking. He was loitering outside the front window of a tiny tourist shop from where he’d just bought a map - one that had no marker where he was certain Silent Hill had to be. Morning dew still clung to the glass pane, creating a misty atmosphere that was almost serene.

 

The logical next action for him to take would be to notify someone immediately. Call Jill, call Claire, call  _ anyone.  _ A complete information blackout like this was dangerous, and if he didn’t alert somebody he could very well be digging his own grave. But - his hand hovered over his cell phone pocket awkwardly. They’d probably tell him to come back; they’d probably even try to force him. Chris couldn’t  _ do that.  _ If there was even a single chance in a million that - that  _ he  _ was -

 

He clutched his hand into a fist, wrinkling the cheap map until it was almost unreadable. “Nobody gets left behind.” He muttered under his breath, drawing a wary glance from a withered old woman hobbling past him with her cane. Chris met her frowning face and gave her a jerky nod. “Do you know where I can get a ride to Silent Hill around here?” He asked. 

 

Her glare intensified, but her mouth twisted in confusion. “Nobody goes to Silent Hill.” She croaked out. 

 

“I’m going.” Chris said flatly, and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t bother trying to change my mind. I just need to know if you know anywhere I could catch a ride - I’ll walk if I have to.” 

 

She stared at him for a while longer, before hunching her small shoulders and shaking her head miserably. “... Try the cargo truck station. They have to pass by Silent Hill to get to Ashfield and Shepherd’s Glen, though they’re all smart enough to stay as far away as they can. One might agree to give you a ride.”

 

Chris blinked. “That’s it? You’re just gonna help me now?” He asked, his eyebrows raising.

 

The old woman turned away from him and began to hobble away, but stopped after only a few feet. She looked half over her shoulder; and Chris nearly took a step back. In the time she’d taken to walk a few steps, she’d pulled a black veil down over her face. “People like you, dear child, will go no matter what I may say.” She spoke mournfully, and Chris shivered as a cool wind swept through the street. 

 

Swallowing hard, Chris nodded. “Thank you. I guess.”

 

She shook her head again, and turned away from him for the last time. Chris watched her slowly walk until she was completely out of sight, his hand absentmindedly hovering over where his gun holster should have been strapped to his leg. It was nothing more than a learned reaction to tension, but all the same it made his gut clench uncomfortably. He never would have been able to board the train without alerting authorities and in turn the BSAA if he’d been decked out in full combat gear, so he’d settled for his favorite civilian outfit instead. A long black knit jacket - courtesy of Jill - and a black turtleneck sweater under it. He’d managed to sneak his hunting knife in his boot and a compact Kahr CM9 pistol in the inside pocket of his coat, but besides that he was uncomfortably unarmed. 

 

The odd tension only made Chris realize that if something happened, he was woefully unprepared to deal with anything above the casual threat levels. 

 

Grimly setting his teeth, Chris shrugged to himself and slipped back inside the tourist shop to ask directions to the nearest semi-truck stop. ‘ _ I’ve lived under worse odds than this.’  _ He thought harshly. ‘ _ I’ll deal with it.’  _

 

Thankfully, the cashier directed him only a couple of blocks away. The streets he passed were much like the one the train station had dropped him off at - old styled with cobbled roads and low buildings with nostalgic western architecture. The sun was steadily rising, casting a soft golden glow on everything around him, reaching far enough to light up the range of looming mountains to the west that were easily visible behind all of Brahms’ short buildings. One peak stretched up far higher than its surroundings, reaching all the way to the sky’s limits. 

 

The semi-truck stop was a tiny run-down gas station on what looked to be the edge of town, and Chris strode forward to the first person he saw; a ragged looking white man wearing an eye-cringingly stereotypical assortment of plaids climbing down from his truck’s cab. “Hey. I’m looking for someone who’s passing by Silent Hill to give me a lift and drop me off. Close, if you can.” 

 

The man looked down at him, eyebrows raised up into his hairline, and loosely dropped the rest of the way down to the ground. “Silent Hill? Yeah, I’m passing by. You couldn’t pay me enough to even get on the off-ramp for that shithole, though.” 

 

Chris frowned. “That’s fine. I’ll walk.” 

 

The trucker shrugged. “Whatever. It’s your funeral.” 

 

“What do you mean?” Chris crossed his arms and took a step closer. “Everybody keeps trying to warn me off. What do you all know that I don’t?” 

 

“Not much, honestly. Just that people who go in - never come out.” The man leisurely went about refilling his gas tank and leaned against the cargo container when it began pumping. “That’s more than enough of a reason to steer clear in my eyes.” 

 

Chris inclined his head in a slight nod. “Of course.” He walked around to the front of the truck and eyed the passenger’s door. “So it’s alright that I come?” He pushed.

 

The man blinked at him, and snorted a laugh. “Ha! Sure.” 

 

“Good.” Chris cracked his knuckles, swung the door open, and pulled himself up into the cab. Through the front window, he saw the trucker laugh to himself again and unplug the gas pump. He walked over to the payment machine and fiddled with it for a few moments before following Chris’ example and hoisting himself up into the cab. Gripping the wheel, the man slowly began to pull out of the station. 

 

As they neared Brahms’ town exit, the man tapped his radio and tinny low-quality 80’s rock music began blaring from the cab’s worn speakers. He peeled loudly past a couple of thick trees, startling what must have been dozens of white birds resting on it’s branches into flight. After a few moments, Chris realized they were all doves. 

 

“I didn’t know you got wild white doves in these parts.” Chris mentioned offhandedly, watching as the flock flew past them and towards the solemn mountain peaks that were slowly sinking into the distance as they drove away.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nivanfield is suffering hoenstly


	3. Chapter 2 - Of What Once Was

\---

 

_ “I don’t get it, Captain. What are we doing here?”  _

 

_ Chris turned around to look at the newest addition to his team - Piers Nivans, an ace sniper he’d personally recruited from the Army’s Special Forces branch. He was a fresh graduate from the North Hills Academy, a prestigious military college in Virginia; and he’d probably had early military training in his home life to boot.  _

 

_ One of the first things Chris had noticed about Nivans’ file was the long list of other family members the kid had that’d all served in other branches. Father in the Marines, grandfather in the Air Force, great-grandfather and two brothers that had also gone into the army - he almost felt bad for the kid. Growing up in a predominantly military family like that couldn’t have been easy, and Chris would bet his left shoe that Nivans hadn’t had an easy childhood. It shone through in the way he walked, the way he talked. Even during casual hours, Nivans walked with his back ramrod straight and spoke in a clipped no-nonsense tone. He didn’t seem to have any hobbies besides training and studying. It was like the kid didn’t know how to  _ relax  _ or have _ fun.

 

_ He was young, too; younger than Chris had been when Raccoon City had gone down in flames. Nivans had his whole life ahead of him, and here he was in the BSAA doing one of the world’s most dangerous jobs. The kid really was an ace, though, if the things Chris had seen him do ended up transferring over to active combat situations. Hitting the target on a stationary firing range was one thing, but shooting a dashing zombie cleanly in the head was another task entirely. Most importantly, though, Nivans needed to learn some much needed chill skills. He’d run himself down to the bones if he took missions the same way he trained - all work and no rest. _

 

_ Chris turned around to meet Nivans’ furrowed gaze and lazily slipped off his shoes. “It’s in the middle of summer. Why else would we stop at a river?”  _

 

_ The rest of alpha team was already stripping down to their boxers and getting ready to jump in - hell, Chris was pretty sure Carl was  _ already  _ in the water. A shout drew their attention, and Chris watched as Ben launched Andy into the river with a surprise tackle, and yelped himself when Andy’s hands shot out of the water and wrapped around his ankles. With a single tug, Ben was pulled off the bank with a loud splash.  _

 

_ Chris watched on with a grin as the rest of his highly trained strike team horsed around in the river like a group of teenagers, splashing and laughing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nivans shifting uncomfortably.  _

 

_ “Permission… permission to speak freely, sir?” Nivans spoke in a controlled tone, still standing at a mockery of attention. Chris nearly sighed, but thought better of it.  _

 

_ “Listen, Nivans.” Chris scratched behind his neck awkwardly, trying to think of the best way to phrase what he wanted to say so that it would get through to the young sniper. “I know what it was like in the army, but this team isn’t like that. You don’t have to ask - I want you to be comfortable with me, with the rest of the team. Don’t ever feel like you don’t have permission to say something. If you disagree with one of my commands, I want to know so that I can explain my reasoning to you. Your idea might even be better than mine - and in that case, I  _ definitely _ want to hear it. Do you understand?”  _

 

_ Nivans was still frowning, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to lighten a little bit. Chris counted it as a win, and waited for the team’s newest member to speak up. _

 

_ After a few moments of thought, he did. “It just seems… odd to me, that we came all this way just to go  _ swimming _. Wouldn’t we be better off practicing on the range or doing drills as a team?”  _

 

_ Chris shook his head. “Stuff like this builds relationships. It builds trust and gives the team a chance to relax and goof off. Trust me - with all the awful things you’re probably going to see in the BSAA, just taking a few hours to rest and have some fun goes a long way. And besides, haven’t you spent almost every free hour you’ve had in the shooting range for the last week?”  _

 

_ Nivans had the good grace to look a little bit abashed and averted his eyes down to the ground as some color dusted his cheeks and nose. “Well, yes, but-” _

 

_ “No but’s!” Chris laughed. “If anyone deserves a little break, it’s you. Go take a rest, get wet, have some fun!”  _

 

_ The sniper finally seemed to get the hint, and gave Chris a painfully awkward salute before he wandered back to the team’s jeep to - hopefully - get ready to swim. Chris snorted and shook his head incredulously. Soft footsteps behind him made Chris swing back around towards the river and just barely catch Ben in a chokehold as the man pitifully tried to pick his Captain up.  _

 

_ “No way! Nice try, though!” Chris chortled out, and released his squirming subordinate. “Did you really think you were gonna be able to drag me in from all the way over here?” He laughed.  _

 

_ Ben shrugged and shook some of the water out of his hair. “Figured I’d give it a shot.” He sighed loudly before moving in a bit closer to whisper conspiratorially into Chris’ ear. “Swimming was a nice idea, but do you really think it’s gonna loosen the kid up?”  _

 

_ Nivans had gotten down to the river bank by then, and was almost robotically poking one foot under the surface. _

 

_ Chris nodded. “He’s just gotta stop thinking about work. He’ll be okay once he starts having fun.”  _

 

_ “Hmmm…” Ben scratched at the back of his head with a frustrated frown until he suddenly perked up with a grin. “Oh! What about a game? He’s got a pretty competitive streak, right?”  _

 

_ “Good idea!” Chris gave Ben a thumbs up before shrugging his shirt and pants off and hanging them on the bed of their jeep. He’d come prepared with a pair of swim trunks instead of boxers, something only about half his team had thought of. He followed Ben back down to the river, and called his team over with a loud whistle. Carl and Andy simply swam over to the shallow edge and waited for him to speak from there, but Nivans crawled all the way out and marched to Chris’ side. “We’re going to do a little exercise, boys!” He shouted with as much gusto as he could muster. “Split up into two teams - who here has played Sharks and Minnows before?!”  _

 

_ Carl and Andy immediately locked locked arms and started hooting for Ben to join them. To his credit, the man in question threw Chris a questioning glance and only joined the rest of the team when Chris gave him a quick OK nod. “Looks like it’s me and Nivans on one team, then! We’ll be the sharks since we’ve got less people.”  _

 

_ Risking a glance over, Chris nearly laughed out loud at the look on Nivans’ face. The sniper cycled through what looked to be a whirlwind of emotions, starting with surprise and ending with the most ridiculous display of determination Chris had ever seen in conjunction to  _ Sharks and Minnows  _ before. Nivans’ teeth were clenched, his fists tight and his eyebrows furrowed together as he gave Chris a tight nod. His eyes, though, were bright.  _

 

_ Chris would have to thank Ben for the idea later. For now, he had a game to win.  _

 

_ With a flick of his hand, the team of three swam to one end of the river and Nivans took a running jump back into the water. Chris followed suit, the ice cold water splashing all around him and nearly taking his breath away -  _

 

\---

 

Jumping awake with a gasp, Chris froze for a moment while he tried to remember what he was doing. 

 

A voice startled him out of his confusion. “Didn’t get much sleep last night, huh?” The trucker laughed. 

 

‘ _ Ah, that’s right.’  _ He was in a cargo truck on his way to Silent Hill. A well of emotions warred inside his chest as he thought about the dream - _ memory -  _ he’d woken up from. Though sadness sank down into his gut like a stone at the thought of his team and  _ Piers,  _ he could at least recognize it as a  _ good  _ memory. One of better times, before the heartache and the loss had hit. With a jolt, he realized the man was still waiting for a response. “Ah, sorry about that.” Chris muttered. 

 

The man shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it.” With a lazy point, he directed Chris’s attention to outside the rig. They were idled on the side of the highway with an off ramp before them. “There’s your exit. Just go down that road for a few miles and you’ll hit your town.” 

 

Chris took a deep breath and nodded to the trucker. “Thanks, man.” He unlocked the cab door and hopped down to the gravelly roadside before turning back around. The man had scooted over to close the door behind Chris, and gave him a returning wave. 

 

“It was nothing. Watch yourself out there, yeah?” He pulled the passenger door closed, and Chris watched with an uneasy feeling of trepidation pooling in his stomach as the cargo truck slowly drove away until it was just a tiny speck in the distance. 

 

Finally, when he couldn’t see the truck anymore, Chris turned to look down the road before him. Swallowing hard, he took off at a brisk pace without looking back. 

 

\---


	4. Chapter 3 - The Town of Ash and Dreams

The thick fog curled in deceptively fast. 

 

It was like he’d blinked, and been surrounded by dusty white in every direction when he’d reopened his eyes. Logically, Chris knew this wasn’t the case; he’d been walking through a light mist that had been steadily getting heavier for at least an hour. Chris had seen on one of the maps he’d looked at that Silent Hill was wrapped around a large lake - so the presence of the fog itself wasn’t really that odd. The speed in which it had appeared, though… ‘ _ Just unsettling, is all.’  _ He thought to himself. He didn’t like having his vision narrowed. An infected could be walking right up to him and until it was nearly close enough to bite he’d never see it. 

 

Through the fog, Chris could see the silhouette of a dark looming shape in the sky. He tried turning on his headset flashlight, but even the light couldn’t break through the fog. It was perfectly rectangular, so he figured it was some sort of sign. As he walked closer, he could barely make out a few of the letters where the fog was thinner - an S, an N and a T, and two L’s at the end. 

 

“Silent Hill…” Chris murmured out loud to himself, giving the air in front of him a helpless wave to try and clear some of the fog. With a quick roll of his head on his shoulders, Chris picked up the pace. The looming sign faded back into the fog quickly - after a few moments of walking it was gone again. ‘ _ Must be getting close.’ _

 

The street let out onto a large railed balcony. It was impossible to see but Chris knew that somewhere below him, buried in all the fog, was the town he’d come looking for. There was a grimy looking bathroom to his right, and an overpass on his left - one that presumably continued back out of the area. A tiny break in the fencing was what Chris assumed to be the way down and towards Silent Hill; a quick check confirmed it. A small dirt and gravel road curled down the mountain and into the thick forest below. 

 

Chris pulled his Kahr from the inside of his jacket, and double checked his clip. Loaded, with full shots. He’d tried to arrange for some of his other gear - his bigger guns, his holster - to be sent over the post to be picked up in Brahms, but without using the BSAA’s name and alerting them there was no way to do it. ‘ _ Fuck it,’  _ He thought forcefully. ‘ _ If anything happens, I’m damn good with a pistol.’  _

 

He moved forward cautiously but not slow; unwilling to waste time, but still keeping his ears open for danger. There wasn’t much of a point in looking around; the fog was still far too thick. Chris stepped down onto the dirt road and followed it into the mouth of the forest. He kept his pistol out and his hands loosely on it’s handle and trigger. Chris wasn’t sure if he’d run into resistance or B.O.W.’s, but if there was one thing he’d learned in his years of fighting bioterrorism, it was ‘If you don’t know what kind of situation you’re in, always assume it’s a hostile one.’ 

 

The road seemed to wind on and on, the tightness of the trees around him giving off a suffocating feeling. Suddenly, Chris stopped as a new noise reached his ears. It was still faint, but the sound of rushing water was unmistakable. ‘ _ Water…? I don’t remember seeing a river coming from that lake…’  _ He stepped forward carefully as the sound grew louder and louder as he walked, until finally the culprit became visible. 

 

A wide river with a dangerously strong current was cut straight through the path - trees were uprooted and toppled over on both banks. The ground that he could see on the other side looked odd, too. It wasn’t worn down and smooth like the banks of most rivers he’d seen - it was jagged and crumbling. ‘ _ What in the… hell?’  _ Chris moved forward slowly, peering over the side of the bank. The water was clear and blue, making it easy to see that the other side of the bank seemed to go downwards for miles. It looked  _ hundreds  _ of feet deep, and he couldn’t even see the bottom.

 

‘ _ It’s like a fucking ravine...’  _ Chris thought as he took a few steps backwards. He had to find a way to get across - the current would probably knock him under if he tried to swim it. ‘ _ I might be able to do it, but… I’d rather not risk it if I don’t have to.’  _ Ever since China, Chris had developed a bit of an aversion to water. The deeper it was, the more nervous he got. The sound of the rushing river alone was enough to make the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his heart rate rise uncomfortably. 

 

With a quick glance to his left, Chris noticed a fallen tree further up the river that had conveniently fallen right across its banks. ‘ _ That… might work.’  _ He thought, and moved over to it. The tree was small but sturdy looking. He had to be careful to get across. 

 

Gingerly, Chris tested the tree with his foot. It didn’t shake or bend. He took a deep breath before taking a steady step forward. The tree creaked, but didn’t give out. Chris breathed out in relief before taking another couple of steps with his arms raised on both sides for balance. Another louder creaking noise came from below him. 

 

He’d just crossed the middle of the tree when he  _ felt  _ it crack. The roots in front of him began to slide towards the edge of the bank, and he heard another breaking noise. Hissing through his teeth, Chris abandoned caution as best he could and took a running leap off the tree, and barely rolled onto the safe riverbank as the whole tree fell into the rushing water behind him. Coughing, he turned around and watched as the tree was sucked under almost immediately and never resurfaced. 

 

“Fuck!” Chris groaned out loud. ‘ _ That was a bad idea. _ ’ He thought while slowly picking himself up off the ground and brushing the dirt off his pants. ‘ _ But it could have been worse.’  _ Chris rationalized. ‘ _ That tree got dragged down so fast…”  _

 

With the unsettling river now behind him, Chris set off again down the gravelled forest pathway. No matter how far away he got, though, he could still faintly hear the sounds of rushing water. 

 

Long blades of bright green grass and ferns began to spill over the edges of the path as he continued farther and farther until finally he reached an opening in the trees. A large brick wall that had been hidden by the branches at first stretched as far as Chris could see on either side of him; except for a broken hole right at the end of the dirt path. Bricks lay around his feet, some crumbled to bits.  

 

Before him, the path led straight up to the first paved street Chris had seen since he left the highway. Buildings lined the other side of the road, and Chris realized that he’d made it to the outskirts of Silent Hill. Unkempt weeds grew up through cracks in the road; there was even a large tree growing straight up through it at one point. Vines crawled across the outside walls of most of the buildings he could see, and a soft trickle of water was pouring from one of the roofs into an open hole in the asphalt. 

 

It seemed like the path had let out into a tiny shopping district. Chris caught sight of what might have been a bakery, and a building that still had it’s ‘bookshop’ sign. The building with the tiny waterfall was a souvenir shop, if he was reading the scratched out window painting correctly. There were no lights on in any of the windows he could see - not a single movement besides the falling water. As far as he could see, there wasn’t a single living thing besides the overabundance of weeds and plants.

 

Fog hung like a suffocating blanket everywhere. A wind chime attached to the bookshop’s door was still in the absence of even the slightest breeze.

 

The town felt abandoned and old. 

 

Chris immediately frowned and tightened his hold on his gun. His track record with places that could be described with those two words wasn’t exactly promising - if he’d learned anything, it was that if a town was mysteriously empty the way this one was, something bad had happened there. Ninety percent of the time, that something bad always ended up coming back to bite him in the ass. 


	5. Chapter 4 - The Building In the Fog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been so long! D: been in a rut!

\---

“What… the  _ fuck?!”  _

 

Chris stood stock still and stared out into the fog-covered void before him.  _ Bloch Street _ , the road that was supposed to go straight forwards to the Central Bridge, was  _ gone.  _

 

The whole street was in ruin, like it had been cut clean out of the world. Chris didn’t dare walk any closer to the edge - he stood back a good ten feet and still felt nervous. There was nothing left of  _ Bloch Street  _ but an empty void that went on for God only knew how long. 

 

“What the fuck happened here?” Chris muttered out loud, and pulled his map and pen out of his back pocket. It didn’t take him long to figure where the cutoff was located - right before the last block between him and the bridge,  _ damnit -  _ and marked it off with a squiggly red line. ‘ _ Gonna have to backtrack and try to find another way around… If the bridge is even still there.’  _ He stared accusingly at the paper in his hands. ‘ _ I guess I could head back to Levin Street and either go up and try Matheson Street or head down and try Bradbury. But…’  _ Chris scowled and lowered the map, looking around at the houses surrounding him. ‘ _ If any of these are unlocked, I might be able to take a shortcut straight to Ellroy Street and Central Bridge.’ _

 

Most of the buildings around him were houses, so the probability that they’d be open for him to cut through wasn’t too high. ‘ _ I could always just try to break a window.’  _ He thought dryly. After trying a couple of doors half-heartedly and finding them locked, Chris had almost decided to turn around and head backwards when he noticed it - a tiny little shop stood nearly on the edge of the fissure. Faded paint streaked across it’s windows that he’d failed to notice at first due to their dull colors titled it as a pet shop. 

 

Cautiously, Chris inched towards the front door. If he leaned too far left it felt like he’d tumble straight down into the abyss - some of the road pieces were beginning to fall away. The pet shop, at least, though close to the edge seemed stable. He gently pressed on the door, and with the quiet dingle of a bell, it pushed open under his hands. “Alright…” He whispered to himself, and carefully hopped inside. When it didn’t seem like his weight was going to magically make the entire building just slide into the hole, Chris relaxed and slid the door shut behind him. 

 

The room around him was a simple - in front of him was a front desk, a door behind it, and a few empty cages for what looked like mice and birds on his right. A second door he’d almost missed stood to the very far right of the room. Short plaques was nailed above both doors, but in the darkness Chris couldn’t read them at all. The tiny gate closing off the area behind the front desk was locked when he tried it, but with a shrug Chris vaulted over the desk. He gave the first door’s knob a jiggle, but it was locked as well. “Damn.” He groaned, and turned back to the front room. Pulling up his cell phone, he waved it around as a makeshift flashlight to try and see something he could use. The plaque above the door he’d just tried read ‘Back Exit.’ Chris frowned in the darkness. “This door’s what I need, but…” The counter before him didn’t seem to have anything of use - after pulling out all the drawers, there was no key he could find. There was, however, an unread message on the phone next to the cash register. Chris tapped the button to play it back. 

 

“ _ Hey, dude, it’s Dan! Can you let me in when the boss lady isn’t looking?! I went out for a smoke and forgot the key… I know you’re new, so you probably don’t know where the key rack is yet - it’s out behind the kennels!”  _

 

The recording shut off with a click. The machine garbled something about saving it or replaying it again, but Chris was already vaulting back over the front desk and heading over to the second door. He shined his light up onto the plaque above it and nodded to himself when it read ‘Kennels.’ The door was thankfully unlocked, and Chris slipped through. ‘The kennels’ seemed to be a long dreary-looking hallway with cages lining both walls all the way down. Some of the cage doors were simply hanging open, but others had what looked like chewed holes in them, and even others were completely mangled with dried blood clinging to the thick broken wires. He immediately shut the light off his phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

 

The lights hanging from the ceiling were all out like the ones in the main room, and they swung back and forward as if under a light wind, soft creaks echoing unnaturally around the cramped hallway. Chris tightened his grip on his handgun, and stepped as quietly as he could into the hallway. ‘ _ Fuck, please don’t let it be monster dogs.’  _ He thought viciously and swallowed. 

 

He crept silently down the hallway, avoiding the few loose tiles along the way. Stepping on one might make a loud enough crack to alert something hiding in the room - if it wasn’t already aware of his presence. If they couldn’t  _ smell him. _ ‘ _ Fuck, I really wish I’d taken a goddamn shower last night.’  _ Chris mentally berated himself and sniffed the inside of his collar. He was at least sixty percent sure that anything he smelled was nothing but paranoia driving his senses crazy, but it still made his skin crawl. 

 

The end of the hallway came without confrontation, and it made a right hand turn that opened up into a wider room with a few lockers and drawers on both sides. In between them, right in the middle of the back wall, was a corkboard with a single key pinned to it under the label ‘back door.’ There were a few other labels - ‘bathrooms,’ ‘front door,’ and ‘kennels,’ - but all three sections were empty. 

 

Chris snatched the key off the wall and returned to the main hallway, this time far more relaxed. Whatever had gotten loose in the pet store before seemed to be long gone. Not a particularly good sign for society in general, but it worked out for Chris at the moment and he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He’d barely gotten two steps into the hallway when he heard it.

 

A distorted low growl came from somewhere behind him and he turned around just in time to see one of the locker doors nearly cave in from something slamming into it from the inside. 

 

“Fuck!” Chris grunted, and counted his bullets. He had seven in the clip, and fourteen more in his pocket. None to waste. With another curse, he turned on his heel and broke out in a dash for the door. Suddenly the cages all around him were rattling, and the single growl melted into a cacophony of rabid barks and howls. The pitter-patter of dozens of pawed feet soon followed, and Chris cursed for a third time as he flung himself at the door to the kennels and threw it open. In another clean movement he’d cleared the space between the kennel door and the front desk and vaulted over it without stopping. 

 

The key still in his hand, he stuck it into the doorknob and turned. It unlocked with a click, and Chris nearly barreled it down with his shoulder once it opened. He slammed it shut behind him, and apparently just in time as the door gave a frightening shake as something slammed into it from the other side. He could still hear the barking as he took slow steps away, and turned around to see -

 

“What…” He whispered in shock, and nearly lost his grip on his gun. Chris brought one of his hands -  _ they’re shaking -  _ up against his forehead. “What the  _ fuck _ …” He whispered again.

 

Standing tall and solemn before him, irrationally smack in the middle of what  _ should have been  _ a few back alleys and backyards in the middle of a block, was a  _ mansion.  _

 

And not just any mansion. As far as he could tell, from the outside alone it was  _ the  _ mansion. 

 

He’d never be able to forget it. He remembered the exact shape of the windows, of the foyer, of the cobbled stone path that led up to the front door, fuck, even the  _ shingles on the roof - _ they were all there. 

 

There were half-buildings on both sides of it, leaning slightly as if it had been unceremoniously  _ shoved _ between them. Rubble from the destroyed houses littered the ground around it, but the mansion stood pristine as ever. 

 

A particularly loud bark and slam from the door that was now pressed against his back jolted Chris back into action. It wasn’t going to hold for much longer - the hinges were beginning to split. With a silent prayer, he took a few shaky steps closer to it before breaking out into a jog. 

 

Even if it didn’t lead to the other side of the street, Chris would bet one against a million that he’d be able to find  _ something  _ inside. 

 

\---


	6. Chapter 5 - Hail to Whatever You Find There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's been a while! (again)  
> many thanks again to henry my star beta !!!

EDIT: ive been super busy and i had no clue i had the wrong chapter up here! i'm so sorry guys ;; OOPS thank you to Blad3Zer0 for telling me! i'm replacing this chapter with the correct one, and then uploading another one now. :)

\---

When he opened the front door, Chris was almost certain for a split second that he’d somehow walked back in time twenty years. 

 

From the ornate architecture to the ominous red carpet, the foyer was literally identical to the Arklay mansion in his memories. The lighting was dim - the only sources were a few wall mounted candles and a single pristine silver chandelier. The shadows twisted unnaturally in the dark corners of the massive entryway, flickering with the tiny flames of light emitted by the candles. 

 

“What… the fuck?” Chris repeated in astonishment and slowly took a few uncertain steps towards the center of the room. 

 

Another mansion that looked similar to the Arklay one wasn’t that odd of a coincidence, honestly - Spencer had built  _ dozens  _ of them, all with nearly the same floor patterns and architecture tastes. But, the thing that had mainly caught Chris’ attention and sent chills up his spine were the paintings. It seemed like such a tiny detail - but none of Spencer’s other mansions had featured  _ exact copies of paintings.  _ There were only a few paintings in the foyer, but the few that he saw were ones he  _ remembered,  _ ones he’d described in debriefings hundreds of times over along with the rest of the mansion and the events that had happened.

 

The only difference between the two mansions he noticed from where he stood was the door under at the top of the stairs at the very front of the room. Where in the mansion in Arklay it had been a normal looking single door, it had been replaced by a pair of matching ornate double doors. Though the difference was small, it still did wonders for calming Chris’ nerves.

 

Chris closed his eyes - a stupid move, he knew, but one he was going to take for now - and took a couple of deep breaths. He’d stormed at least five of Spencer’s other mansions on missions for the BSAA, so this was nothing new - but. It was different; facing something like this on his own was different. Once he’d formed the BSAA, he’d always had a team or a partner, somebody to watch his back. Hell, just someone  _ there  _ probably would have been enough. Being on his own like this brought back memories of trudging through the hell in Arklay with only his gun for company, and the resulting couple of years of chasing relentlessly after the last vestiges of Umbrella. 

 

He just had to calm down. Once he calmed down, he’d be able to think straight.

 

Obviously, they’d missed a mansion in their searches for Spencer’s hideouts. It wasn’t exactly surprising - the man had been slipperier than an eel when he’d been alive, and even after his death, they’d  _ still  _ run into trouble trying to round up the scraps of his work. 

 

The similarities between this mansion and the Arklay one were hair raising, but it was just a mansion like any of the others that they’d dealt with. 

 

Chris would use the familiarism to his advantage. 

 

His phone sat like a lead weight in his pocket.  _ Piers _ was in the town somewhere. ‘ _ Do I really have the time to be running around in here?’ _ Chris thought and worried his bottom lip. ‘ _ I know this mansion is here, now. We can always come back later and search it…’ _

 

He couldn’t hear the barking outside, anymore. He could leave and go back the way he came, find some other way around the fissure, head straight to the bridge and leave this can of worms for later.

 

Stepping back to the front door, Chris continued to watch the empty room as he reached blindly back for the doorknob. His hand found it after a few moments, and he turned it -

 

His heart dropped. The knob didn’t turn. He flew around, and shoved at the firmly closed doors with all his strength - they refused to budge. Somehow, it had been locked behind him. He was stuck in the mansion. “I guess that makes my choice for me, huh.” Chris muttered, and turned back to the foyer. 

 

‘ _ I’m changing my mind. I’ll try to just find a way out to the other side, and keep heading for the bridge. If I find anything in here, I’ll make note of it but I’m not going to stop.’  _ He decided. ‘ _ Piers needs me right now. Everything else can wait.’  _  His mouth thinning into a determined frown, Chris readjusted his grip on his handgun. “Nobody gets left behind.” He whispered.

 

His best bet would be to try and exit the mansion from the courtyard, if this version of it had one. 

 

If he remembered right - and he was sure he did - the door at the front would open outside to a creepy little graveyard. He headed across the foyer and up the stairs. As he got closer to the double doors, he noticed something odd. A strange mechanism crossed the doors - a burgundy and golden contraption that crossed over where the handles should have been. It had six obvious indents in it - five separated like the points of a star, and one larger one in the center. The center one was shaped differently, as well; where the other five were perfect circles, the center indent was shaped almost like a fist-sized shield with two nubs at the top and the bottom rounding down into a point.

 

Whatever the fuck it was, Chris knew he wasn’t getting through it any time soon. There was another door that he could get outside from, one further in on the right wing of the mansion.

 

But first, there was something he had to check. 

 

Chris moved cautiously to the top right corner of the foyer and stood before the smallest door in the room. As he thought, it had an emblem of a helmet on it. Reaching out, Chris tried the door. The knob held firm and refused to turn - locked. 

 

“Fuck.” Chris breathed out. 

 

The helmet door was locked shut, and Chris wouldn’t be surprised one bit if the rest of the odd locked doors from the Arklay mansion were locked here, as well. Hell, he’d probably be more surprised if they were open. 

 

Pressing his fingers to his temple, Chris growled. ‘ _ What’s the fastest way to get out of here?’  _ He wracked his mind, trying to remember the locations of all the keys that he’d needed to get through the Arklay mansion. 

 

The Shield Key would be on his left in the dining room, and if he went all the way up to the third floor, he could grab the Armor Key, too. That was, what? Two out of… twenty? Thirty? Different knicks and knacks Spencer had set up to make his mansion as  _ confusing  _ as humanly possible?

 

Chris gritted his teeth. He didn’t have the goddamn time to do this all over again. It could take  _ hours. _

 

With no other option readily making itself available to him, Chris went left. The door opened - predictably - to a familiar white and black dining room. His eyes immediately went to where the Shield Key  _ should  _ have been; it wasn’t there. Stumped, Chris frowned. On the other side of the room, the fireplace that held the Wooden Emblem was empty as well. 

 

‘ _ Does that mean that everything’s been moved around?’  _ Chris eyed the table and did a double check to make sure that nothing important was in his vicinity, but it came up short. Nothing was in the room. 

 

There was no point in staying in the dining room any longer, so Chris went through the door on his right, coming out into a hallway. The light fixtures along the walls were either dead or flickering, making it hard to see. Left was an unlocked door, he remembered, so he went left and through the door that thankfully opened. 

 

He was in a stairwell, now, and he took the stairs up to the second floor. The Shield Key hadn’t been where it should have been, but optimism forced him to continue straight and check the third floor for the Armor Key. It was missing, too, but a strange sound caught his attention before he went back down. The small room at the end of the third floor hallway was mostly cut off from his vision, but it was where the sound was coming from. It was a low moaning noise that brought thoughts of the reanimated dead to the forefront of his mind, and Chris raised his handgun, finger on the trigger, as he rounded the corner into the room. 

 

The scene before him  _ almost  _ gave him pause. A body that wore a very familiar looking military uniform was slumped over in the far corner of the room, blood splattering the walls and floor around it. A blue shine near it’s chest caught his eye, but Chris would have to check what it was later - there was a far more pressing matter to deal with. 

 

A creature that must have been a B.O.W. of some kind was hovering over the body - it was vaguely human-shaped, but that was all the resemblance it held. It’s lean body was completely naked, and it’s skin was unnaturally pale with mottled greenish purple veins. It had two disgusting pus-filled sacks hanging from it’s bony shoulders, and a couple more smaller ones on it’s lower sides. All six of pus sacks had fragile-looking torn up bug wings extruding from under them, the smaller sacks having smaller wings. It’s legs were bent at an awkward angle, appearing to have two joints and elongated feet with thing clawed toes that were at least half a foot long. From what Chris could see of the back of it’s head, it had no hair or ears. Somehow, though, it sensed that he’d walked in and turned to face him. The wings began to vibrate in an agitated manner.

 

The thing had no eyes or nose, only what looked like a mouth with a thin layer of skin growing over it and a long _proboscis_ sticking out and curling up under it’s chin. Chris made a noise of disgust and took a step back. The thing kept it’s head turned in his direction, but it’s proboscis slowly unfurled and reached towards the body. 

 

“Oh,  _ fuck no.”  _ Chris grunted, and with experienced accuracy he lined up a shot on the thing’s head and fired. It leaned down quickly, but not quick enough as the bullet grazed the top of it’s head. Sickly green ooze splattered from the wound, and the thing  _ screamed. _ It’s mouth ripped open, and insect mandibles curled out from the sides of the inside of it’s mouth. “Don’t kick up such a goddamn fuss,” Chris muttered and pulled the trigger again. The bullet barely missed, and he took a few quick steps back as the thing advanced on him, still screaming.

 

Suddenly, it had crossed the distance of the room right into his face in one long jump. On reflex, Chris unleashed a shot that went right through it’s heaving chest, and it shuddered to a stop inches away from him. With a hiss, it fell to the floor, two of the pus packs on it’s side bursting when it landed on them. The stench was horrible, and Chris shot it twice more in the head for good measure. After a couple of twitches, it finally laid still. 

 

“... Alright.” Chris released a breath, and mentally counted the bullets left in his clip. Three. He’d have to be a better shot if -  _ when - _ something showed up. 

 

Keeping an eye on the monster on the ground, Chris knelt down next to the body. He’d been right about the uniform being familiar - it was the BSAA infantry uniform. A tiny patch for Alpha team members was on it’s left shoulder, and Chris swallowed hard. There was a sickly feeling in his gut. His hand barely shaking, he reached up to remove the soldier’s faceguard.  A familiar face, slack with death, met his. It was unmistakably Ben Airhart, and Chris’ heart twisted with old wounds. The creeping feeling of unease that had been building since he set foot in the mansion - no, since he’d walked into Silent Hill itself - finally exploded as he stared down at the body of one of his  _ friends  _ that by all rights should be a dead husk buried in the rubble of Edonia, and not turning up in one of  _ Spencer’s mansions in the middle of  _ fucking  _ Maine. _

 

Ben’s body, at least, was in one piece and completely un-mutated. It looked like he’d died from a bite wound to his neck. Glancing over at the monster on the ground, Chris ruled it out as being the culprit - the thing didn’t really have  _ teeth,  _ let alone human-shaped ones. 

 

His stomach churning, Chris reached out and closed his old friend’s eyes. Why was Ben’s body suddenly here? It made no sense. Something was very, very wrong.

 

The blue shine from earlier caught Chris’ attention again, and he gently picked up a tiny round orb from the ground near Ben’s chest. Different shades of whites and blues swirled inside it and it gave off a dim blue glow. ‘ _ Some kind of marble…?’ _ Thoughts racing back to the door in the main hall, Chris considered the ball. ‘ _ I wonder if it goes in that door?’  _

 

Had Ben somehow lived through Edonia? Only to die here? Chris had seen him mutate into a Napad with his own eyes, though… But, were his memories really that trustworthy? He’d already suffered from PTSD induced amnesia, were fabricated memories such a stretch after that? 

 

But if Ben had lived, what had he been doing here? Had Piers known that he’d been alive, too? Did Piers call him too? Everything was starting to feel numb, and Chris knew from experience that numb wasn’t good. He couldn’t afford to have a breakdown right now.

 

 _“_ Shit…” Chris muttered and scratched the back of his head in frustration. He had more questions than he had answers, and though that wasn’t exactly a new thing for him, it was still aggravating.

 

With one last look at Ben’s body, Chris stood up and headed back for the hallway. There wasn’t anything else he could do for him, right now. He took the stairs back down to the second floor, and turned left. He passed by where the Green Arrowhead had been, and went through the door to the dining room balcony. Nothing attacked him as he crossed it, and the mansion seemed as silent as the grave. The only sound he could hear was the rise and fall of his footsteps. 

 

Until-

 

He opened the door the main hall’s second floor, and heard  _ voices.  _

 

_ Familiar  _ voices _.  _

With a start, Chris shoved through the door and raced over to the balcony, knuckles white as he gripped the rails and looked down. 

 

Sure enough, there were three people down below. The first person his eyes went to - and Chris swore he felt his heart leap in his chest - was  _ Piers.  _ He stood below in the main hall at attention, gripping an anti-material sniper rifle that was as familiar to Chris as his own gun, eyes trained on someone Chris couldn’t see. His mouth was moving, and Chris could hear his hushed voice but couldn’t make out what he was saying. Another familiar figure jogged energetically into sight -  _ Finn MacCauley.  _ His features were just as young as Chris remembered, all bright-eyed n aiveté . 

 

Chris opened his mouth to shout out, but his voice caught in his throat as the third person in the hall walked into the open. 

 

The large man wore military BSAA gear, and the rank on his shoulder signified a Captain. His dark brown hair was cut short and slicked back, and a pair of expensive looking sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose. He looked straight up at Chris with a small smirk, and Chris realized where exactly he’d seen the man before. 

  
‘ _ Is that… me?!’  _


	7. Chapter 6 - The Beast of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for catching my stupid mistake im a ning nong forgive me

\---

 

Claire Redfield was having a  _ shit day.  _ Not a ‘bad day,’ or even a ‘very bad day’ - when you’d lived through as much as she had, those were reserved for bioterror issues and life or death situations  _ only _ \- but it  _ was _ a shit day. 

 

After Chris had gotten home from China, he’d been a complete wreck. It was something she’d seen before - in herself after Steve, and when she’d thought Moira had died in  Sushestvovanie . Chris had been through grief and survivor’s guilt before, but losing Piers had been  _ different _ . Thankfully, he hadn’t regressed back into the haze he’d been in after Edonia - something Claire had only learned about more than  _ six months after the fact  _ and absolutely zero contact from her brother, fuck, she’d thought he’d gone and died - but it seemed like it was a close thing. He was putting up a strong front, but on one too many occasions she’d had to let herself into his apartment and found him staring blankly at his wall. 

 

They’d gotten into a fight a few months back; Chris was killing himself on alcohol, and Claire had tried to step in. Things had gotten a bit out of hand, and they’d both ended up yelling. She should have had the good grace to stay calm and not let it get to her, but she’d had a long day and her patience was shorter than her temper. He’d hung up on her, and she hadn’t called him again.

 

She’d kept tabs on him, though, after that - a quick word with Leon had Hunnigan tracking the BSAA’s mission feed so that Claire would be alerted if Chris ever got sent out, but nothing came through. Thankfully, the BSAA seemed to be in agreement for once that their top Captain needed some ‘vacation time.’ She wished it had come a bit earlier and that it hadn’t happened because of such a horrible event, but she’d take it.

 

So, her surprise wasn’t completely unfounded when Leon had called her up with a  _ very  _ odd story, marking the start of her shit day. Apparently, Chris had called Leon and asked to be connected to Hunnigan. He’d fed them some bullshit story about a job he’d taken and had a phone call - from  _ Maine _ ? - that he was trying to get traced. Leon said that he hadn’t thought anything that odd of it (Claire would have immediately been suspicious and she guessed that Hunnigan had been as well, but it wasn’t exactly hard to sneak something past Leon. She couldn’t fault him for it, it was just how he was); not until a few hours later when facial recognition picked Chris up boarding  _ a fucking plane _ headed for the other side of the United States _.  _

 

Apparently, he’d called Claire right afterwards. 

 

And that was why Claire was now currently  _ also  _ boarding a plane, and why she was having a  _ shit day.  _ Chris just jumping up out of nowhere and flying to Maine was so far out of the realm of what she expected of him to do that it sent all her sister senses haywire. He was doing something  _ stupid _ , she just  _ knew  _ it. 

 

\---

 

Chris leaned forward over the railing, his mouth hanging open in shock. There were so many things about the scene below him that sent him reeling - Piers suddenly being  _ there,  _ and  _ ok, _ and God it was so good to see him looking alive and human and whole. Finn, who Chris had been  _ sure  _ had died in Edonia; and a  _ doppelganger?  _ All wandering around in a replica of the Arklay Mansion? It seemed like something out of one of Chris’ stranger nightmares, and that was using kind words for it.

 

Thoughts raced through his mind, impulses screaming at him to shout down at Piers and Finn that the man they were with wasn’t really him, but something held his tongue. Maybe it was the surprising presence of Finn and Piers themselves, or the complete head-scratcher of the events happening around him - but Chris found himself unable to speak. His palms curled tightly against the rail, his knuckles turning white with tension. 

 

The doppelganger below raised one eyebrow up at him, and put a finger to his lips in a mocking gesture, before turning to Piers and Finn. They didn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss; somehow completely missing the entire exchange between Chris and his doppelganger. 

 

“Have either of you heard back from Ben, Carl, or Andy yet?” Not-Chris asked. 

 

Piers straightened up and shook his head sharply. Finn shook his head as well after a moment.

 

“No, Captain. I’ve tried radio-ing all three of them, but I haven’t gotten a response in a long time.” Piers relayed, looking slightly like he’d bitten into a bad lemon.

 

The doppelganger took a moment, as if thinking, before turning towards Finn. “We’re going to have to split up again. There’s too much ground to cover, and now we have to look for the others.” 

 

Finn started, fear showing obviously on his young face, but he swallowed it down to give his ‘Captain’ a shaky salute. “Where do you need me, Captain?” 

 

The doppelganger tossed three small and shiny objects over to Finn, and the demolitions expert nearly missed one as he scrambled to catch them out of the air. “There’s the three keys we have right now. We haven’t covered the right wing of the second floor yet, so you’re going to take those and check it out, alright? If anything strange attacks you, just run and come meet up with someone else. Do you understand?” 

 

In those few words, somehow, Chris suddenly realized what his doppelganger was trying to do. The ‘Captain’ went on to direct Piers to explore somewhere else and handed something over to him, but Chris could barely hear it. 

 

Yawn had been in the right wing of the second floor.

 

Not-Chris had given Finn just enough keys that he’d be able to make it into the library where the giant snake had set up house. 

 

The doppelganger was trying to lead his team to their deaths, just as Wesker had done back in Arklay.

 

Chris opened his mouth to shout ‘No,’  but still no sound came out. Forgoing words, Chris made to jump over the railing, but suddenly the doppelganger looked up at him again. A single glance from the fake, and Chris was frozen. ‘ _ Fuck, why can’t I move?!’  _ Chris thought wildly, but his body and voice refused to respond. He was stuck. Panic blossomed in his chest, and he struggled to breath. Somehow, he had to  _ stop  _ this.

 

Finn looked absolutely  _ terrified,  _ but he nodded acceptingly and began to head up the stairs. He didn’t notice Chris as he passed by on the opposite side of the balcony, and unlocked the door with the Sword Emblem.

 

‘ _ No!’ _ Chris tried to scream, ‘ _ You’ll die that way! Get out of here!’  _ But his voice wouldn’t come out.

 

Finn slipped into the open door, and closed it behind him, breaking Chris’ line of sight. He was able to move his head to look back down, and realized with another burst of panic that while he’d been watching Finn, Piers had also disappeared into the mansion, and he had no idea which way. 

 

The doppelganger was still standing below, though, and raised one hand in a mock salute. A condescending smirk was plastered onto his face, and with a small wave of his hand he sauntered off into the darkness.

 

After what felt like hours, Chris was suddenly able to move again. With a loud gasp, he slipped over the railing and hit the ground below. Thankfully, he hadn’t landed on his head, and he shook the shock off. He jumped to his feet and looked around, but the doppelganger seemed to be long gone. His gun had fallen with him, and lay a few feet away. Chris swiped it up. 

 

“Fuck…” Chris whispered. “What the fuck is going on?” 

 

Chris had no idea where Piers or Not-Chris had gone, but he knew where Finn was headed. 

 

He’d worry about the whys and hows of what was going on later - all he had time for right now was stopping Finn from getting to the library, or at least getting there in time to help him. 

 

Taking off, Chris bounded up the stairs. He nearly slipped as he rounded the corner, and leaped up the second flight to the balcony. His handgun at the ready, he opened the door with the Sword emblem that Finn had gone through. The hallway was empty, with the corpse of a zombie leaned against the back wall and riddled with bullet holes. 

 

Even though a  _ plethora  _ of other questions had been opened, one thing did make sense to him now - he’d been wondering why some of the locked doors had been open and the keys missing from their spots. It wasn’t because everything had been moved around like he’d originally assumed - there were just  _ people ahead of him.  _ They’d already opened a fair amount of the doors and cleaned the halls of useful items. 

 

Chris checked the Armor door on his right when he came to it, dread pooling in his gut when it opened. A couple more zombie corpses littered the ground in the next room, both also sporting bullet holes. With no time to waste, Chris stepped casually over them and headed straight around the corner for the only other door in the room. 

 

He’d only just grasped the doorknob when an earsplitting, distorted scream sounded from behind him. Another mosquito man was  _ hanging down from the ceiling _ , it’s proboscis completely unfurled. It must have been at least three feet long and was stuck into the neck of one of the zombie corpses - this time, the proboscis was pulsing red with large black veins sticking out. The corpse started jerking unnaturally before four insect legs tore themselves from it’s sides, and it’s face split apart to reveal a single large compound insect eye. 

 

The mosquito’s proboscis retreated from the turned zombie’s neck, and the original monster crawled across the ceiling to the second zombie corpse and began lowering it’s proboscis again. 

 

“Oh, what the  _ fuck-”  _ Chris growled, and unloaded the last two shots in his clip into the mosquito monster. It screamed and dropped from the ceiling, writing on the ground for a few moments while Chris took the time to reload. He was suddenly  _ painfully _ aware that he only had five more ammo clips in his jacket, and if he didn’t find more he was going to have a tough time _. _

 

The mutated zombie was still slow like a normal zombie, so he had a few moments to take care of the mosquito monster. As long as he kept his eye on it, he’d be fine. He fired another five rounds into the mosquito while it tried to right itself, not giving it time to get up. It jerked, and laid still. The zombie went down easily afterwards, one shot to it’s head seemed to do the trick like usual. Once he was certain that neither of them were getting back up, Chris went through the door to the next room. 

 

A loud crash sounded from the room behind the stairs in front of him, and a familiar voice shouted. 

 

Chris dashed forwards up the stairs and busted the door to the library open. Inside, Yawn had already appeared, and was crashing through bookshelves after Finn. The rookie was dashing around, desperately trying to keep a few feet in between himself and the giant snake.

 

“Finn!” Chris shouted, and ran forward while reaching down to pull his knife from his boot. With a grunt, he slammed the blade straight down into the end of Yawn’s tail. 

 

Finn’s shout of “Captain!” was almost drowned out by the deafening hiss that erupted out of Yawn, and the snake turned the front of it’s massive body around to glare directly at Chris. 

 

“Get out of here, Finn! I’ll take this thing out!” Chris shouted back, pulling his knife out and jumping backwards as Yawn thrashed his giant tail in an attempt to throw Chris across the room. 

 

Finn looked between him and the door nervously, but shook his head. “N-no! I’m not gonna leave you to fight it alone!” The rookie yelled, and shot the snake in the back of it’s head with two blasts from the shotgun in his hands. 

 

Gritting his teeth, Chris nodded. “Fine! Just  _ be careful,  _ and whatever you do,  _ don’t _ get bit!” He’d known Finn long enough to know that it would be just as hard to convince him to leave as it would be to convince Piers - impossible.

 

Thankfully, Yawn didn’t seem to know what to do with the both of them - once Chris pulled out his handgun and started shooting too, they alternated attracting its attention while the other would shoot it in the back of the head. 

 

Things were going as smoothly as they could, until the snake was advancing on Finn and he’d backed up too far. He’d accidentally backed himself up into a corner, and the snake - sensing that it’s prey had nowhere to run - refused to turn around and go after Chris no matter how much he shot at it. He unloaded two more of his clips, but the snake continued to advance on Finn. It’s mouth opened wide, and it leaned back.

 

“Shit!” Chris swore, and ran forwards again with his knife. He jumped onto the back of it’s tail, and used the extra elevation to jump up and stab his knife straight into the back of it’s head. The snake reared in pain, and Chris had no other choice but to hang onto the knife or get thrown off and across the room. He hung on until it began to shake it’s head wildly to try and get him off, and he hit the ground with a cough. His gun slipped out of his hand and slid across the floor, disappearing into the rubble of books and wood from shelves that the snake had destroyed.

 

“C _ aptain!”  _ Finn shouted, voice wavering, but Chris’ attack had worked. The snake furiously turned around to look for him, slitted eyes locking onto his. “Here!” Finn yelled as he dashed forwards. He dropped his shotgun to the ground and slid it straight into Chris’ hand, before clumsily trying to copy Chris’ earlier move. The rookie jumped onto the snake’s back and grabbed Chris’ knife that was still lodged in the back of Yawn’s head and pulled. The knife came free with a scream from the snake, and Finn dug it down into it’s head again. “Now!” He cried.

  
Taking the cue, Chris lifted the shotgun and blasted it straight into the snake’s open mouth. 


End file.
